Meet the New Subway
My plate is full of things to talk about. I promised a post on GMOs and corn this week. There was the one about how to cook a fool proof and delicious filet mignon. And I also had hoped to find a way to mention the grass fed bone in rib eye at Creo, just in case you had a bunch of money burning a hole in your pocket, and you wanted to try some of chef Brian’s cow.
But all of those are going to have to wait because just yesterday, John The Subway Guy brought it to my attention that Subway had recently revised its list of ingredients in the U.S. and that perhaps my assertions in The Good Way vs. The Subway were no longer valid.
And since then I find myself once again picking my jaw up off the floor at what passes for food at our Nation’s largest chain of sandwich shops. The good news is that Subway has indeed taken the high fructose corn syrup out of their breads. You know what? That’s actually something to be proud about. Try finding bread that doesn’t use HFCS in the grocery aisle. It’s really freaking hard. Now try to find a hotdog bun. It’s next to impossible.
If there is other good news on that list, it’s not immediately apparent. Please allow me to share with you some of the more egregious items on this most recent round of product formulations.
Trader Joe’s Unintended Side Effect
Hoarding might be genetic. I feel like I have a propensity deep in my bones to stock up on items and hold onto things. There is a famous story in my family about my father having similar instincts at a young age. And my sister, who has known me all of her life, gave me the best birthday gift ever, two packs of astronaut ice cream. One so I could save it, and the other so I could eat it.
Mrs. Fussy is the exact opposite. She’s a tosser. And her streamlined ways have had a profound effect on me. Food now rarely gets wasted. I’ll even find myself voluntarily thinning out piles of my own paperwork, instead of stacking new piles on top of old piles.
When I go grocery shopping I tend to stock up on staples. Instead of buying a twelve pack of seltzer at Price Chopper, I’ll by ten twelve-packs of seltzer when they are on sale. Boxes of 100% whole wheat pasta get put in my shopping cart in multiples of three. Once tomatoes stop coming in from the CSA I’ll buy twelve cans diced tomatoes, hoping that this one purchase will get me through winter.
And when I used to travel to a faraway Trader Joe’s? Oh my. The cart would be overflowing. I’ve still got bottles of pomegranate juice and bags of tart dried cherries on a high shelf in the closet from a trip six months ago.
But then Trader Joe’s came to Albany. And this sounds weird, but it changed me.
Ask the Profussor – Saratoga Expansion
Saratoga is a place I need to visit more often. Addie’s Dad has been nudging me to visit the cheese cave up there for months, and I know there is a lot of other great food up north (besides Mrs. London’s) waiting for me to eat.
This ice cream sandwich thing with the Saratoga Idiots will bring me back up to Spa City on August 25 and I’ll get to try a few of them. But more than that, by partnering with these beloved troublemakers, I’ve been seeing some new readers coming over from Saratoga County. That’s kind of exciting.
Hi! I’m glad to have you here. One thing we do on a regular basis at the FLB is answer every single reader question. That is, so long as it was asked with proper punctuation. Usually it’s not right away. Usually all questions get wrapped up and tied in a bow every two weeks in something we call Ask the Profussor. And now it’s time to get to it.
Challenging Local Foods
September marks the third annual NY Locavore Challenge. So now is the time to start thinking about local food. And almost on cue, the Times Union ran a piece this weekend entitled, “Our farms to Giants’ tables” about local food at the Giant’s training camp.
Except I find it kind of appalling.
What’s interesting is that when I showed the article to reasonable people, they didn’t quite understand what I was getting so upset about. And that was because they didn’t look carefully at the pictures.
The words are written by Steve Barnes, and he makes a measured case which is carefully crafted to not overstep its bounds. That said, the headline for the story doesn’t play out in the body of the article. Still, most of this piece is just human interest fluff. Very little relates to food except the following paragraph (boldface has been added for emphasis):
A significant portion of the produce, dairy and meat they eat every day comes from local and regional sources. Signs throughout the dining facility…identify the names and locations of farms that supply the products. Last week, potatoes were from New Bedford, Mass., milk was from Binghamton and local vegetables, grass-fed beef and a whole pig used in a pig roast were all from Purdy & Sons Foods in Sherburne, about 30 miles west of Cooperstown.
So what’s wrong with that? Well, let’s talk first about local food, and then we’ll go to the pictures.
Albany’s Best Ice Cream Sandwich
Despite the first signs of Fall that are beginning to appear, some of us will hold on desperately to the last vestiges of summer. A few of my trees are starting to shed their leaves. On the drive up from Long Island there were sporadic yet distinct hints of red in the green canopy of trees flanking the highway. And sunset continues to creep earlier.
All the same, it’s still warm. And as long as I can leave the house without a jacket, it’s summer, dammit. Let’s hope it holds out until the end of this month. Because that is when I’ll be spearheading the Capital Region Ice Cream Sandwich Showdown with the Saratoga Idiots.
Mark your calendars for Saturday, August 25. The event is going to be open to everyone, but like the top secret cupcake tasting from earlier this year, you will need to buy a ticket in advance (that will cover the cost of the food). Fair warning, tickets will be limited.
However, before any of that happens, Team Albany needs two champions: two local restaurants that will put whatever Team Saratoga creates to shame. The problem is that we’ve got a bunch of great creative chefs who have stepped up to the challenge. And now is your chance to vote for the one you think is best–who can bring the honor of Best Ice Cream Sandwich home to Albany.
Notes on a Bad Old Fashioned
I’m back. Again. And I finally did get my fried chicken from Montauk. It was delicious. Best ever? Probably not. But it’s solid, and I can totally understand why people make a big deal about the stuff. Should you find yourself in Montauk, call Herb’s and phone in an order for a whole fried chicken, cut into pieces. Pick it up on time, and eat it from the bag while it’s piping hot. If they have their corn salad in the refrigerator case, get that too. Because that was also very special.
Seriously, I don’t know why anyone goes to East Hampton when they could go all the way out to Montauk on the tip of the island. If my Aunt S. didn’t have a house in the Hamptons I’d totally opt for a motel in Montauk.
After a long day of driving back to the Capital Region, the last thing I wanted to do last night was write an original post. Luckily, I happened to be sitting on a guest post submitted by a longtime reader of the FLB. And it’s about cocktails. More precisely, it’s about bad cocktails in Saratoga.
Now while one could take this as a cautionary reminder of the importance of specifying your booze of choice when ordering a drink, especially something like an old fashioned. It’s also pretty clear that when it comes to these two Saratoga watering holes, one totally outshines the other.
So in an effort to help you avoid the same pitfalls, I’m happy to share the following.
Beach Treats
The sunscreen won’t come off. I’ve showered with soap and I’ve scrubbed with washcloths, and I still feel it on my skin.
So it didn’t rain in East Hampton yesterday. That means I went with my family to the beach. No, I still haven’t had my fried chicken. Aunt S. is already suggesting that the last batch she had from her favorite place wasn’t quite up to snuff, and perhaps the joint isn’t what it used to be. That’s not stopping me from driving out to Herb’s Market in Montauk to pick some up for lunch shortly.
I did hear that Herb’s is for sale, so perhaps that has something to do with it. Let this be a lesson to you. When you hear something is amazing, make a special trip out to eat it right away. Don’t wait for a return visit. Because you never know when things might take a turn for the worse.
For what it’s worth, Young Mater Fussy and Little Miss Fussy loved the beach. Me? I love other kinds of beaches. You’ll never guess what they all have in common.
Better Than Chips
My plan this summer was to eat better. That does not mean to eat tastier food, but rather attempt to make more healthful choices. The CSA was a big part of that. It’s hard to have room for a bunch of junk when you’ve got pounds and pounds of vegetables to consume every single week.
Sure, that also includes a lot of olive oil, but that’s good fat.
Somehow the plan went astray. Because not only is this summer notable for the silly amount of traveling I’ve been enjoying. It will also go down in history as the summer where I ate an unreasonable amount of ice cream.
It started with the Tour de Hard Ice Cream and it will end with the Ice Cream Sandwich Showdown*. Midsummer I ate twelve bowls of ice cream from the Ice Cream Man in one sitting for the sake of science.
So when I was confronted with a six-pack of pints from Graeter’s that my brother-in-law drove down to the farm from Ohio, I had a significant breadth and depth of ice cream experience to draw upon as I sampled this regionally beloved product for the very first time. And let me say for the record, that this is really special stuff. My newfound love for Graeter’s is profound, but I also need to report that it’s limited.
Because more than anything else, what sets Graeter’s apart from other ice cream makers is its chips.
Heading to the Hamptons
Beaches would be great if it weren’t for all that sand. It’s just so gritty. I’ve never had a picnic on the beach where I didn’t get a grain of sand in my teeth.
I hate that.
Plus it’s hot. There’s almost no shade. And in East Hampton the water is freezing. At least in Miami you can get in the water without your entire body seizing up from the shock. So then it’s a fair question to ask why I’m going to this world famous beachside destination?
Pictures of Food
The FUSSYlittleBLOG is gloriously free of pictures. Well, mostly. And if you ask me why, you may get a variety of answers.
As opposed to other food blogs, the FLB isn’t a chronicle of what I eat. It’s about trying to change people’s perceptions about what it means for food to be good, with the ultimate goal of improving the overall quality of food around the Capital Region. And pictures can be a distraction.
But really, pictures are mostly a pain in the ass. It’s not that I can’t take them. I do. And you can see my images on All Over Albany and on the Chefs Consortium. But taking these pictures takes me about as much time as writing the post. Sometimes it even takes longer. I think about setting up the shot, composition, lighting, and backgrounds. And then I take lots of different images, with different depths of field and different levels of exposure. Later, I’ll sort through all the pictures to find the one or two that don’t completely suck.
There is a lot of bad food photography out there. And like bad food, it kills me.
Given my distaste for running pictures on the blog, it would be reasonable to assume that I’m not like one of those maniacs who takes pictures of all his food before he sits down to eat it. Reasonable, but incorrect.
FUSSYlittleBLOG 